


A Place In This World

by GreyWardenMorgan



Series: The Grace Wade Series [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Comes Around In The End, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWardenMorgan/pseuds/GreyWardenMorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is preparing to leave for Havana on a mission to kill Woodes Rogers before he attacks Nassau. Before leaving, he pays a visit to fellow captain Grace Wade's quarters to say goodbye. Grace spends the night giving Ben reasons to hurry back to Nassau. (sexy times)</p><p>Upon arriving in Havana, Ben takes up with the Templars after seeing that Nassau's demise is imminent. He tries to forget his old life as a pirate, but his path crosses with Grace's once again and he finds himself unsure of his present course. (more sexy times)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place In This World

Ben moved quietly over the docks, careful to avoid the few men milling about at this time of night. Most of the sailors were scattered about Nassau, drinking or whoring or brawling depending on their mood, so it wasn’t hard to keep out of sight. He knew just where the ship was moored, knew just where and how to climb around the stern after discreetly studying it that afternoon. Deep bellied and decorated with all manner of scrolls and filigree she was and he had little trouble making a quiet leap from the dock right onto the hull. The window he’d spied earlier was still open to allow a breeze into the cabin, a means to counter the sticky heat he’d come to accept as part of life in the tropics.

He’d had mentioned to Kidd his plan of visiting the ship this night, knowing the young lad was the only one who’d keep his confidence. The boy had lifted an eyebrow and shrugged before responding: “Your funeral, Hornigold.” Ignoring the twisting of his gut that said this was a wholly idiotic idea, he scaled the last few meters and hoisted himself through the window.

It was black as pitch inside, but he’d been here several times over the last week and had committed the layout to memory. He unbuckled his baldric and set it light only the table on his left, sword and all; best to make his benign intentions clear before proceeding further… one, two, three paces forward and watch your step, there’s a lounging chair in the middle of the floor for some goddamn reason… chest of drawers on the right, a weapon stand beside it… duck to miss the low chandelier.

His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he could see the bed against the far wall. It was a grand canopy with dark wood and heavy drapes built for the fat bastard of a noble who originally owned the ship. He could see a prone form in the middle, bundled under the covers despite the humid air. Very carefully he put one knee on the mattress and leaned forward. “Wade?” he whispered as he reached to shake her shoulder. He immediately drew back in dismay, realizing shape in the bed was naught but blankets arranged to resemble a sleeping inhabitant from a distance. “What in the hell…” he began.

He froze the moment he felt cold steel contact his skin – the flat of a blade pressed against the side of his neck. He raised his hands slowly in surrender.

“I don’t sleep in the bed when we’re in port. It’s the first place people look when they’re trying to kill you at night,” she said behind him.

Ben cursed under his breath. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“Obviously. You left your damn sword on the table.”

The blade left his throat. He dropped his arms and turned to face her. “Did Kidd tell you I was coming tonight?” She shook her head. “But you knew anyway.”

“I guessed. I saw you scrutinizing the ship earlier today and figured you were up to something.”

They sized one another up in silence for a moment. Finally Ben spoke. “For fuck’s sake, Grace, stow your weapon. I’m just here to talk.”

“Are you now? Only to _talk_ , Captain Hornigold?” she drawled. Still, she crossed the room and set her sword on a small pile of clothes atop a desk. She lit several lanterns and made her way to a sideboard, pulling out a bottle of rum. As she poured two glasses, Ben looked her over. _Criminally beautiful_ , he thought, _and deadly to boot. What more could a man want?_

She returned to Ben and offered him a glass. He threw back the drink and then blinked in surprise. Grace smiled. “They’re making it in Barbados, adding fruits to the rum to flavor it. I rather like it.”

He made a face. “That,” he pointed to the bottle, “is a goddamn disgrace.”

Grace rolled her eyes and snatched his glass away. “As if you’d know from bad, with all the shit you drink.” She drained her cup in several swallows and gave an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. Ben chuckled, but in truth he was more interested in the way the rum wet her lips and how they shined in the lantern light. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the liquor from her mouth right then and there, but the nagging worry that she’d knock him on the flat of his back and press a knife to his throat (or worse places than that) held him at bay.

As Ben’s fleet had grown over the years, so too had his reputation. He enjoyed a certain level of recognition in most ports, and his name was often enough to lift more than a few skirts. He’d mentioned this to Grace one drunken night, and she’d nearly laughed herself to tears – “It’s a good thing I don’t wear a skirt then, eh?” Two years he’d known her now, and in that time they flirted and teased and bantered innuendo, but nothing further. Ben had never wanted a woman more.

Grace dropped their glasses on a nearby table and the sound pulled him from his reverie. “So, what urgent news brings you to my cabin in the middle of the night, Captain Hornigold?” She leaned back on the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re leaving in the morning, with the tide. We’ll make for Havana, see if we can stop this bastard Rogers before he ever steps foot in Nassau.”

Grace frowned in confusion. “What? You can’t… when was this decided? I thought we agreed, fortifying the bay…”

“We can’t just wait for him to sail in as he pleases,” Ben interrupted. “Who knows how many ships he’ll have by then, how many men he’ll have captured or turned from our cause? Best to cut him down before he makes too much trouble.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Who else is leaving?”

“Thatch. I’ll speak to Kenway and Kidd in the morning and ask them to remain behind with you.” He meant to leave the rest unspoken, but it came out anyway. “If we fall, Rogers will come here as quickly as he can and you must be ready.”

“Bloody hell, Ben, you can’t do this! I need… we need you here.” She started to pace angrily. “Woodes Rogers is here by the King’s command, armed and outfitted and God knows what else with the Crown’s gold, and you think you can just stroll up to him and cut his throat and then sail out of Havana with a merry as-you-please?"

“Actually I think we’ll have to run up to him, not stroll.”

Grace fixed him with a hard glare. “D’you think you’re funny?”

“Yes?”

She made a sound of disgust and marched to the back of the cabin. She braced her hands on the frame of the open window and looked out onto Nassau. “That’s great, Ben. That’s fucking great.”

“Grace, I’m sorry.” She didn’t respond. He came around to stand beside her, carefully laying a hand on her shoulder. “Grace.” She continued to gaze out the window, ignoring him. “Grace, please.” He lifted her chin gently so she looked him in the face. “A great many men have tried to kill me, and none have succeeded. Why should this Rogers be any different, hm?” He gave her a sly smile.

She seemed to study him for several moments as if deciding something. Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “I could stop you leaving if I wanted to.” Her voice was low and heavy with desire, a register he’d not heard from her before and the sound sent a pulse of arousal right to his groin.

Ben tried to play it casual and nodded thoughtfully. “You could try."

She put her hands on his chest and he could feel the heat of her palms through his shirt. Slowly, she began to walk him backward. “I could make you forget all about Woodes Rogers and Havana.” He bumped into the table she’d recently occupied and she pressed herself to him. “I could convince you to stay here with me.”

“I am strongly considering the idea,” he agreed, trying to keep his voice even.

She slid her hands up over his shoulders and helped him to shrug out of his jacket. She tossed it onto the table and draped her arms around his neck. He was certain she could feel his stiffening length against her belly, so rolled his hips forward experimentally, the friction sending a thrill up his spine. Grace let out a low moan and her hands tightened on his nape. “I want you, tonight,” she purred.

He kissed her with a longing he would never admit to anyone but her, and slipped his tongue past her parted lips to plunder her mouth. He wound one hand into her long, dark hair, pulling lightly to bare her throat for his pleasure, licks and kisses and playful bites that made her whimper with passion. He wanted to take his time, to savour every inch of her body, but she tasted and smelled and felt more incredible than he had imagined and all he could think about was _more_.

In this at least they seemed to agree; Grace was running her hands under his shirt and drawing it over his head before he knew what was what. She nipped at his bottom lip and jaw while her greedy hands stroked his chest and stomach. Ben gasped when she gave his cock a squeeze through his trousers and he felt her smile against his cheek.

Her cunning fingers made quick work of the ties at his waist and he felt her tugging at his clothing to free his erection. “My God, Ben,” she murmured appreciatively when she took him in hand. Without hesitation, Grace dropped to her knees and took his cock into her mouth. He leaned back on the table, gripping the edge with both hands and doing his level best to stay upright. She tightened her lips and pressed her tongue along the underside of his shaft as she worked him in and out. Ben let out a low growl of lust as he fought the urge to flex his hips and bury himself down her throat. She used her hand to stroke him in time with her mouth and kept her eyes locked on his, a combination that was quickly undoing his restraint. He reached down and cupped her cheek to still her movement, and she rocked back on her heels, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Careful, sweetheart… you’re a little _too_ good with your mouth,” he managed hoarsely. He extended a hand to pull her to her feet and tapped the leather corset she wore. “And you’re overdressed.”

In a movement almost too quick for his eye, she produced a small silver-handled knife from somewhere on her belt. She pressed it into his hand and spun around lightly, lifting her hair from her back. “Just cut the bloody ties or we’ll be here for an hour,” she said. He carefully sliced through the ribbon crisscrossing her back and the garment fell to the floor, followed quickly by the blouse she wore underneath. She bent over to tug off her boots and purposefully settled back on him so he could grab her hips and rut against her.

When she stood up, Ben pulled her back to his chest and reached around her to explore her body. She dropped her head back on his shoulder and he took the opportunity to admire the view, lavish, soft breasts that filled his hands and then some, a smooth, lean stomach and tapered waist that led to rounded hips and _God Almighty_ he couldn’t wait to see what was below.

He feathered light touches around the silky skin of her chest before delicately pinching and teasing her nipples, and she made little noises of pleasure while arching into his touch. He eased a hand under the waist of her trousers and between her legs, delighting in how warm and slippery and eager she was. His clever fingers rubbed circles around her pearl and drew a passionate moan from her, and it wasn’t long before she was panting and taut as a bow, her wave cresting until she finally shattered, grinding back on him and calling his name.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Grace,” he managed as he watched her tremble under his caresses. When it was over, she grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to her lips, drawing his still wet fingertips into her mouth. “Jesus Christ,” he said again, watching her tongue work around each digit before moving to the next. When she finished, he kissed her hungrily and the taste of her drove him mad with desire. When they finally broke apart, breathless, Ben rested his forehead to hers and looked into her face, cheeks warm and ruddy, lips swollen from avaricious kisses, pupils blown wide with lust, all for him, _only for him_ and fuck if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, and he told her so. He hissed with surprise and his head fell back when she wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked him at a languid pace, the sensation almost overwhelming after being unattended for so long.

“Join me on the bed,” she whispered softly.

“Aye, that seems a fine place to start,” he answered, his voice gravely and deep. “Though truth be told, it’s my intention to have you over every inch of this cabin.”

Grace let out a desperate whimper at that and he concealed a triumphant smile by leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses to her neck, biting where it joined with her shoulder and then soothing the spot with his tongue. Her breath was coming in short gasps and Ben could feel her stiffened nipples against his chest each time she inhaled, so he cupped her breasts and brushed the pads of his thumbs over the pebbled flesh. “You _bastard_ ,” she moaned as she caught his wrists, “stop teasing…”

He let out a low chuckle but halted his ministrations, and Grace tugged him toward the bed by his arm. They shed the rest of their clothes along the way, tossing them aside negligently. He watched her crawl up the mattress and roll onto her back, and when he followed she parted her long legs invitingly and he climbed between. Settling in the cradle of her thighs, Ben took his cock in hand and rubbed the head through her slick folds, both of them shivering and groaning at the intimate contact. She made a right delicious sight, laid out beneath him, legs spread, chest heaving, propped up on her elbows so she could watch him slide through her sex.

Ben leaned forward and braced one hand on the mattress near her shoulder. He pressed against her entrance and rocked forward, sinking into her a few inches. Grace let out a low moan with each stroke, each push seeing him a bit deeper, and soon his entire length was hilted within her. He held for a moment, flush with her body, gritting his teeth and drawing heavy breaths through his nose in an effort to regain his control. She was ungodly tight, a delicious, constricting heat that was enough to bring him to climax with a few hard thrusts, but he’d waited too long for this moment to waste it so quickly.

He dipped his head and captured her mouth for a kiss, swallowing the moan she made when he rolled his hips against her. He began to move in and out with slow, long strokes, feeling the pull of her around his cock each time he withdrew. Ben gave an extra push when he was buried within her and the friction stimulated her sensitive pearl. “Oh, _fuck_ …” she gasped, and she raked her blunt nails down his arm, leaving trails of tingling heat behind. He repeated the motion again and again, and when Grace arched up from the bed he kissed her throat, nipping at the soft skin in the hollow under her jaw.

If he thought she was tight before, it was nothing to how she felt right now, on the edge of her climax. His hips snapped forward, a hard, deep thrust and she cried out his name. “More, Ben, please…!” she sobbed, the last word punctuated as he followed her command and drove into her with a rough grunt. He kept that pace, trying to stave off his own release until finally she came undone, her sex clenching around him while broken moans tumbled from her lips. Ben was relentless, pounding into her until she collapsed back on the bed in a boneless heap. She looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes like the cat that got the cream. Reaching up to hold his face with both hands, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him, slowly, deeply, with a passion that stole his breath away. Keeping them nose to nose, Grace looked into his eyes. “I want to feel you come,” she purred.

Ben groaned and plunged into her, holding her intense gaze except when her eyes would flutter closed with pleasure. His rhythm became erratic and his vision began to whiten around the edges. One, two, three hard strokes and he finally spilled, feeling her contract around him in another climax as he emptied deep inside of her. Grace kissed his nose, his lips, the tops of his cheeks as he slowed, then stilled.

They stayed that way for several minutes, catching their breath and trading gentle kisses until Ben eased out of her and rolled onto his back, pulling her against his side. She skimmed long, delicate fingers over his chest and he closed his eyes, humming happily. “I agree,” she murmured sleepily. He felt her shift as she reached for something, and a moment later a sheet was pulled over them. He kissed Grace’s forehead and together, they drifted off.

She woke him some hours later, stroking him to full hardness. She pinned him onto his back and sunk down on his cock, flushed and panting. Later, Ben bent her over her desk and took his pleasure while she moaned, delirious with pleasure. He held true to his promise and fucked her every way he knew, and some new ways she taught him, leaving evidence of their passion all over the cabin before falling into the bed for one last round of slow, heated sex.

When the first grey light of dawn stole over the horizon, Ben rose from the bed with heavy limbs and sore muscles. He stretched and rubbed one shoulder before casting about for his clothes. Grace dragged herself from under the covers and followed, and they dressed in silence, mostly because he didn’t know what to say.

He pulled on his jacket but then frowned, scanning the cabin. A warm body pressed against his back and Grace’s arm appeared, holding his baldric and sword. “Got knocked around during our fun,” she explained, and he smiled fondly. He lifted an arm and allowed her to fit the baldric over his shoulder before turning to her. He pulled her into an embrace and felt her sigh. “You don’t have to go,” she said.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Ben stroked her hair. “A week, maybe less. Will you still be here?” He tried to keep a note of hopefulness from his voice, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“I could think of a few reasons to stick around, not least of which is that thick cock you have hanging between your legs,” and she wiggled against him for emphasis. He laughed and kissed her, trying to impart his emotion through the gesture. When he pulled away, he felt a bit dazed and lightheaded, and so did Grace if the expression on her face was any indication. Ignoring the voice in his head which urged him to remain, he turned toward the window that was his entrance last night.

“Ah, what are you doing?” she asked playfully when she stepped to block his path. “Ashamed to be seen leaving the proper way, are you? As if the lads below didn’t hear us carrying on like cats in heat last night.” Ben lifted his eyebrows in surprise but after a moment’s hesitation, offered his arm. Together, they stepped onto the deck and out into the cool morning air.

Several of Grace’s crew were moving about the deck and turned at the sound of the cabin door opening. Their faces split into wide grins and someone wolf-whistled. “Aye, get it all out now before my patience runs thin,” she called with a rueful smile.

Her Quartermaster Bernard was leaned against the railing, smoking. Removing the pipe from his lips, he called out in a falsetto voice, “ _Oh, Ben! Oh Ben! Harder, faster!_ ” The lads broke out in raucous laughter and even Grace humoured him with a snicker.

“Never knew a man’s name could fall from your lips so naturally, Bernard, is there something you haven’t told us?” she shot back. That elicited a fresh wave of amusement from their audience.

Ben entwined his fingers with hers and strode toward the dock. She gave his hand a squeeze. “Be careful, eh Hornigold?”

“Always.” He wasn’t sure how to proceed – would she discourage affection in front of her men? – but then she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, a warm, sweet kiss. When it was done, she let go of his hand and stepped back so he could disembark. He looked over his shoulder as he walked away to see her watching him depart with a smile on her face. _A few reasons to stick around, indeed._

 

****

 

Ben made his way down the corridor, carefully negotiating the mess of rubble that remained from their retaking of the fort two days ago. He gave a perfunctory knock before entering the office. Woodes Rogers looked up from a desk, quill suspended above some papers. “Good evening, Benjamin. I didn’t know you’d be arriving so soon. Good hunting?”

Ben held up several pieces of paper. “Four ships, sir. Here are the ledgers, detailing vessel, cargo and crew.” He crossed the room and set them on the desk. Rogers glanced at each in turn before nodding.

“Good work, Captain.”

Ben turned to leave but Rogers called out just before he exited the room. “Benjamin, how long ago was it you came to repent your pirating ways and left Nassau to join us?”

He turned slowly, looking up toward the ceiling as he considered. That assessment wasn’t _entirely_ true; he hadn’t left Nassau with the intention of signing up with Rogers and later, the Templars. It wasn’t until he arrived in Havana and overheard more of the British plans to lay waste to the port that he'd considered his change of heart. Still... “Five… no, six months.”

“Indeed. And in that time, how many of your former brethren have you apprehended?”

Ben shrugged modestly. “I couldn’t say for certain. Almost two dozen ships.”

Rogers set down his quill and eased back in his chair. “An impressive lot, to be sure. And yet there are those who elude us still. Vane, Thatch, Kenway.” He fixed Ben with a penetrating gaze. “And of course, Miss Wade.”

Ben kept his face impassive. “Their time will come, sir.”

“Perhaps sooner than they think. We’ve received word that Grace Wade was recently in Kingston. She killed several of our men but one escaped, and he believes a member of her crew might be sympathetic to our cause.” Rogers gave him a smug look. “It is our hope that he’ll soon relay information as to her travels.”

Ben forced a smile, even as his gut twisted uncomfortably. “Her capture would strike a heavy blow to their movement, indeed.” Hoping for an end to the conversation, he turned once more to return to his ship.

“One last thing, Benjamin. About Grace Wade.”

Ben looked back again, trying to mask his aggravation. “Yes, sir?”

“She is with child."

He blinked, hard, certain he’d misunderstood. “With child,” he repeated slowly.

“Decidedly so. According to our man, she seems to be _‘five… no, six months’_ along.”

Ben felt the blood drain from his face, his stomach suddenly plummeting. Rogers studied him closely through narrowed eyes, so Ben fought to keep his balance despite feeling like the floor had tilted under his feet.

“Is that a problem, Captain?” he asked in a cool voice.

Ben stared at him for a few seconds, then shook his head slowly. “No, sir. No problem.” And with that he took his leave and walked the hallway in a stunned silence. Eventually he found his way to his ship and retired to the bed in his cabin, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his hands in his hair. It was several nights before he was able to sleep again.

 

****

 

Eight months later, Ben received word that Grace Wade and her crew had been captured and were being held at the fort in Nassau under the watchful eye of Rogers. He sailed for the port with all haste and made his way to the gate just short of a run. He found Rogers in the war room speaking with four men, pirate hunters employed by their Order. Woodes saw the look on Ben’s face and sent the other men from the room with a short dismissal. When the door closed behind them, Ben cut right to the point.

“Where is she? _Is she hurt?_ ”

Rogers rolled up a map on the table, seeming unsurprised at Ben’s obvious disarray. He could’ve feigned ignorance at the question, insisted Ben tell him who he was asking for, but instead he answered simply, “She surrendered and was taken into custody without incident.”

Ben found that curious but felt relieved all the same. “I would like to speak with her, if I may.”

“Do you think that wise, Captain?” Rogers perched on the edge of the table. “I’m concerned she holds undue influence over you, what with your complicated _history_ together.”

Ben bit back his anger. “That’s not an issue.”

Rogers gave him a lazy shrug. “Very well, Benjamin. I’ll have one of the guards escort you to the room where she’s being held.”

He blinked, surprised. “She’s not in a cell?”

“Though accused of terrible crimes, she remains a noble-born woman. I thought to extend her the courtesy of a private room as she awaits her trial.”

Ben gave him a curt nod and wondered if that was the true reason for the special treatment. Surely Grace would never… with Rogers… no. Ben refused to entertain that line of thought.

They stepped out of the room and Rogers waved to one of the soldiers, relaying orders to take Ben to the prisoner’s room. His heart was pounding against his chest as they walked, and by the time he reached their destination he felt slightly nauseous. He gestured to the man guarding the door, who produced a key and fit it in the heavy lock. He took a deep breath before turning the handle and entering the room.

Grace was sitting in a small wooden chair, her feet propped up on a table, watching him with an amused expression. Her hair was longer and more freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, but otherwise she looked just as beautiful as he recalled. A fire was banked across the room and there was but one window, fitted with massive iron bars to prevent escape. He heard the door close behind him and then the gentle click of the lock, but he didn’t move. He just stood there.

She gave him a disdainful smile. “Long time, no see, Ben. Last I heard you were in Grand Cayman - must’ve made a deal with the devil to get here so quickly. All for little old me?” He briefly wondered how she'd known where his ship had been, but decided that was a conversation for another time.

He crossed the room and laid his palms on the table, staring down at the wood. He didn’t know what to say, where to start, and Grace seemed content to watch him struggle in the uncomfortable silence. “Anything you ought to tell me?” he began, looking up at her.

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” she asked in a falsely sweet voice.

He bared his teeth in anger. “Don't patronize me. I had a right to know,” he said softly, dangerously.

She swung her boots down onto the floor and leaned toward him. “Well I suppose we’re each disappointed in the other for keeping secrets, then.”

Rage and shame mixed uncomfortably in Ben’s stomach. “I didn’t lie to you when I said I planned on returning. Things… things changed, the situation changed when I reached Havana.”

Holding up a hand to silence him, Grace cut in. "Be that as it may, it doesn’t justify what you’ve done since. You didn’t just turn your back on us, you became the very thing we’re fighting against.” She shook her head in disgust. “I hope they’re paying you well to hunt us like animals."

Ben slammed a fist against the table. “It’s not about the money, goddamn it!” He turned away and went to the fireplace, bracing his hands on the mantle and looking down into the flames. Slowly, his anger began to abate and he sighed; there was no use in fighting with her. “I’m part of something bigger here, Grace. I finally feel that I’ve a purpose in life. I regret what it’s come to with those I used to call friends but you must understand, some must be sacrificed in order to preserve a greater good.” He turned back to her. “Please tell me you understand.”

She regarded him coolly. “ _You_ don’t understand. You could’ve been a part of something bigger _with me_. You could’ve been a father to our son – _that_ would’ve been your purpose.” She shook her head and laughed bitterly. “I loved you more than anything, Ben. If you had asked me to scuttle my ship and settle down with you and have a dozen little babies, I’d have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, you chose this,” and she waved vaguely. “So now you should understand that nothing you say could much endear me to your cause.”

Ben felt dumbstruck – by her confession, by everything. “A – a son.”

“A son,” she repeated. “Francis Benjamin.”

He came back to stand at the table. He must’ve looked pathetic beyond words, because her posture softened a bit. “He’s safe. He’s with his wet nurse.” Ben opened his mouth to speak but she anticipated the question. “I can’t tell you where he is.” She suddenly stood up and went to him, pulling him to face her and taking his hands. “I can’t tell you, unless you agree to leave all this and come with me.” She was so close that he could feel her breath against his skin. “ _Come with me,_ ” she said again, looking up into his eyes.

Ben frowned. “Go with you... you can’t leave, Grace, you're to stand trial. There are fifty, sixty guards here. You’ll never get out alive.”

She looked disappointed. “Fuck me. You’ve lost all your pirate sense, haven’t you?” She leaned back on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to the great Captain Ben Hornigold.”

His scowl deepened. “What are you on about, woman?”

“Did they tell you how they ‘captured’ me?”

Ben shook his head. “Why would that matter?”

She rolled her eyes. “Think about it, Ben. I have what is arguably the fastest brigantine in the Caribbean. My men and I sail these waters day in and day out, in fair weather and foul. I know every rock, every tree, every grain of sand.” Her eyes were sparkling. “You think we ran aground on a clear day _on accident_? Right along a well-known Templar patrol route, no less? We made camp on a _barren stretch of beach_. No sentries, no lookouts.” She snorted. “The fucking ship that took us in sailed by the shoreline twice before they weighed anchor outside the cove!”

It was starting to make sense now. She continued, “They stormed the beach and we surrendered without a fight. That means my entire crew is down below, healthy and able, just waiting for the opportunity to do what they do best. Now, do you have enough pirate left in that pretty little head to see what’s going on here? Or do I have to further explain the grand design in this charade?”

He could just imagine, the fools who brought her in thinking themselves so clever. They were probably at the pub right now, boasting of their harrowing battle with Grace Wade and her men. “Who is coming for you?”

She studied him suspiciously. “Are you going to try to stop me? Perhaps you’re only asking so you can scamper off to Woodes Rogers like a good little dog and report all we’ve discussed.”

That hit a nerve. Ben advanced on her, trapping her against the table and grabbing her wrists. He felt a thrill of satisfaction when a panicked look flitted over her face. “I’m no man’s dog,” he snarled. A pause followed, and then he added, “And I would _never_ betray you.”

He loomed over her for another moment before releasing her wrists, but he kept himself pressed against her. She laid a palm on his chest, just as she’d done that night they spent together, and he was dismayed to feel his body respond. Grace’s lips parted enticingly and she quirked an eyebrow. “You fancy a tumble, Ben?” she teased.

He stepped back. “Stop that.” His voice was a bit rough despite his best effort to sound unaffected.

“Stop what?” she challenged, and she closed the distance between them. Each time he moved away, she advanced and soon his back was against the stone wall. “Do they make you take a vow of celibacy when you become a Templar?” She put her hands on his shoulders.

“No,” he huffed. “But wanton behavior is not tolerated. We’re men of discipline.”

“Ah, I see.” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Let’s see how _deep_ that discipline runs, shall we?” Ben closed his eyes and fought against the impulse to turn his head and cover her neck with heated kisses. He very nearly whimpered in protest when she moved away, but he kept his position against the wall as she crossed the room and sat atop the table again.

Slowly, carefully, she began to untie her corset. Ben knew he should protest, or alert the guard, or just _leave_ , but instead he stayed there, watching her. He watched her long, elegant fingers on the ribbon. He watched the flick of her wrist when she tossed the corset aside. He watched the skin she revealed inch by inch as she unbuttoned her blouse. When she was finished, only a glimpse of sun-kissed skin was visible through the gap. She lifted her eyes to him. “More?”

So inflamed was his desire that he didn’t even bother to play coy. “Yes,” he begged. She crooked a finger at him and he rushed forward, kissing her with frantic passion while she wrapped her legs around his waist. She shrugged out of the blouse and he immediately reached up to massage her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and causing her to moan. He quickly covered her mouth with his to stifle the noise. “The guard,” he reminded her in a rough whisper, and she nodded.

“We don’t have much time,” she breathed. He didn’t need to ask what she meant; he expected her accomplices would be arriving soon to liberate her from the fort, and if there was anyone he didn’t want interrupting them more than the British soldiers, it was pirates. Grace managed to stand up and made quick work of removing the rest of her clothes. He marveled at her body, every bit as gorgeous as he remembered.

He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down enough to release his straining cock to the air. Ben settled her back on the edge of the table and she spread her legs, pulling him to her. Briefly he lamented their rush, wishing he could gather her in his arms and take her back to his ship to ravish her properly, preferably every night for the rest of his life, but he pushed those thoughts aside. She guided him to her warm, wet center and he slid into her with a barely muffled groan.

She was _heaven_ , hot and slick and still tighter than he could believe. She had her hands behind her, splayed out on the table to keep from sliding back. He lost himself between her thighs, now going slowly, now teasing her with short, shallow strokes, now driving his entire length inside her with a hard thrust. She was biting her bottom lip, trying to be as quiet as possible but he was certain their combined gasps and moans were carrying to the other side of the door. He slipped a hand down to tease her pearl while he drove in and out of her and he felt her clench around him with impending orgasm. He felt his own release coming upon him but wasn’t sure what Grace wanted him to do, given what had happened.

“Where…?” he panted, hoping she would understand him because his lust-hazed brain didn’t seem capable of formulating a complete sentence.

She reached up and placed a hand over his heart. “Give it to me, love.” Heat flared in his belly and his hands tightened on her hips and he erupted, a powerful climax that seemed to go on and on, with Grace crying out and tumbling over the edge with him. He slumped against her when he finished and she snaked her arms around his neck, drawing lazy patterns on his back with her fingertips. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her jaw and her lips reverently, unwilling to withdraw from her. “Ben, I…” she began, but was interrupted by the door swinging open and banging against the wall.

“ _Christ_ , Wade, I should’ve figured I’d find you like this.” Ben looked over his shoulder to see Edward Kenway smirking in the doorway with Bernard not far behind, dead guards scattered about the floor. Ben wrapped his arms around Grace to shield her body from their intruders’ gazes.

“Is it done?” she asked in a clipped voice.

Bernard spat on the floor and grinned. “Aye. He made for the boats, just like you said he would. The lad's aboard and he’ll send word as to their location as soon as they make port.”

“Good, then get out. I’ll be down in a minute. And shut the bloody door,” she added.

“Nice to see you again, Hornigold,” Edward drawled suggestively before Bernard did as Grace bade.

“Piss off, Kenway,” Ben snarled, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Grace dropped her forehead against Ben’s shoulder. “Fucking idiots,” she murmured. Ben grunted his agreement. He reluctantly slipped out of her tucked himself back into his trousers as she dressed rapidly.

“What’s ‘done’?” he asked cautiously.

“The guards are all dead. Rogers was permitted to flee the fort and take ship. We have a sailor planted on board and we hope for him to keep us informed as to their destination. Rogers has something I need.” She left it at that, so he didn’t press further.

When she was clothed, he pulled her into his arms again. “We’re setting fire to the fortress. They won’t be able to tell one body from the next.” She let that claim hang in the air and gauged his reaction.

“And what would a dead man do with this second chance?” he ventured.

“He would set sail with me and start his new life.”

Truth be told, he’d been rolling this exact scenario around in his head ever since he heard Grace had been captured. Deep down, his mind had been made up on the matter from the start. He stepped aside and extended his arm toward the door. “After you, love.”

Grace laughed, a joyful, sincere laugh, and took Ben’s hand in her own. One stealthy trip through Nassau and a short swim later, they pulled themselves aboard Grace’s brig. The Jackdaw was anchored nearby and it wasn’t lost on Edward that two figures were hauled over the railing of the Sapphire Wind. _I’ll not be the one to relay that news to Thatch_ , he thought as he yelled to his men to make ready the sails.

Bernard handed Grace her sword and pistols as they stood dripping on the deck. He looked from her to Ben and back again, a look of amusement tugging at his features. “Good work, lads,” Grace called out. “Bernard, you know what to do. Captain Hornigold would like to meet young Master Francis.” As Bernard barked out orders to the crew, Ben took a deep breath and wound his arm around Grace’s waist, feeling as though he’d finally found his place in this world.

**Author's Note:**

> I always fancied Ben's character, and his defection to the Templars never sat well with me. If anyone could get him to regret his decision and consider a return to piracy, it would be a woman he cares for. Enter Grace Wade! This is the first in a series of non-linear fics featuring my OFC. More of her history will be revealed in future stories. Thanks for reading!


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